


The Downsides of being a Snoop

by dragoneyes



Series: The Prince and The Dragon [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Crack, Dragon!Cas, F/M, Fluff, I'm making no sense, Interspecies Romance, M/M, Sam being a snooping snoop, Sam is thoroughly traumatized by the end of this story, Sam realizing that he should probably mind his own business, although he'd it coming, no seriously, prince!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 04:22:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2255718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragoneyes/pseuds/dragoneyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam should have known better than to try to figure out why his brother is acting so weird recently.</p><p>OR: Five times Dean tried to woo a dragon and one time he didn't have to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Downsides of being a Snoop

**Author's Note:**

> Follow up to "Third Time is a Pattern". Reading it before this one isn't strictly necessary, but I suggest to do it anyway since this belong to the same 'verse and it's a direct sequel to it.

There were times in which Sam wondered if he was the only reasonable member of his family.

For example: normally, if you worried that, upon your death, your wife's relatives would try to stake a claim on your throne, the most obvious thing to do would be to officially write down your intentions for your sons to inherit your kingdom and have it legally notified.

This, however, was not the John Winchester way.

No. The John Winchester way was to try to marry off your eldest son as if he were the sole princess of a heirless reign, in the hopes that his future wife would bear offspring before John himself passed over, so that there wouldn't be even the most remote chance of anyone making trouble at his supposed demise.

This, incidentally, was also the reason why Sam had passed most of the time, since he'd stepped out of his room that morning, being introduced to the largest quantity of noblemen from the neighboring kingdoms he'd ever had to deal with.

And, of course, their daughters.

After the not entirely subtle digs that his mother had poked his father with a week before, commenting on how _maybe_ Dean would be more inclined to consider marriage if he actually _met_ the girls before any kind of engagement was officially made, John had caved into allowing her to host some kind of mundane event at the castle, the result of which was the never-ending buzzing of people currently filling the great hall, the impossibility to find any kind private time for oneself, and lots of people asking Sam for his brother's whereabouts.

The only upside of his face risking to become permanently paralyzed in a polite smile was the fact that his mother – as foresighted as she was – had seen fit to invite the whole Moore family to the event, which meant that the only reason why Sam hadn't excused himself yet by claiming that "So sorry, he was needed at the barracks and no, the Royal Knights never rested, so very sorry about leaving so early" was wrapped up in one gorgeous blond lady who was, incidentally, also his fiancée.

"Hello, Samuel," she greeted him as soon as they managed to navigate through the crowd of people in the room without being sidetracked by some nameless nobleman wanting to know this and that about their respective kingdoms. She was wearing a light blue dress embroidered with feather-themed decorations that, while not as sophisticated as the dresses worn by some of the other ladies in the room, granted her figure with a kind of refined grace that made her look absolutely perfect in Sam's eyes.

"Hello, lady Moore," he replied with a more genuine smile than the one he'd been wearing so far.

"Please, that is still my mother's title," she smiled with mirth dancing in her eyes. "And I thought we agreed you would call me Jess, since you're my betrothed," she commented, her lips bending further upwards to show her amusement while she stepped closer to stand next to him.

"We also agreed you would call me Sam," the prince reminded her in return, trying to suppress the gleeful grin that was threatening to show on his face. He'd been lucky that his mother had suggested their engagement after seeing how well they got along at the last spring festivities, or he would probably be in Dean's same boat, with their father shoving him at any unmarried young lady in the room.

"That we did," she concurred, "Then I would like to remind you that I'm still waiting for your promised gift with eagerness."

The prince frowned: he was pretty sure that he hadn't promised anything of the sort the last time they'd seen each other. She must have known too because her smile bent a bit at the corner, becoming smug.

"Why! Have you forgotten, my beloved?" she exclaimed, her whole face alight with amusement while she raised her voice enough that the people closer to them could hear, "You have promised to show me the library you're so proud of! Surely your guests wouldn't hold it against you if you were to leave to pass some time with your fiancée..." she added in such a way that Sam _knew_ she would have winked at him if they hadn't been in public.

As it was, a grin spread on his face for an instant before he promptly brought his expression back to something more proper.

"You're perfectly right, my lady," he concurred, putting all his focus in trying not to laugh while he offered her his arm. "It must have escaped my mind; we should rectify this unacceptable oversight on my part right this instant."

While Jess hooked her hand at the crook of his elbow, Sam saw in the distance his mother cover her mouth to hide her own amusement at their scene and then wave them off while they walked out of the room.

As soon as they were sure no-one would hear them, they both burst into loud laughter, unable to restrain themselves now that they were alone and that they could drop all the pretenses without incurring in the risk of being reprimanded for it.

"That was terrible of us," it was Jess the first one to recover. In spite of her words she didn't look sorry at all.

"No, it wasn't. What was horrible was to keep us there against our will," Sam replied, still amused by the scene they'd caused.

"That's very true!" Jess laughed again, "By the way, I haven't seen Dean anywhere since my family arrived: is he trying to escape marriage again?"

"I've no idea," the prince admitted, a frown making its way on his face when his attention was brought back to that subject: now that he thought about, it was rather weird that his brother hadn't shown up to appease their father's bad mood by pretending to be at least minimally interested in finding a wife. That usually granted him with some leverage in the form of "Dad, I tried", and Dean was usually smart enough to take as much advantage of it as possible.

"I haven't seen him all day," Sam continued before adding, "I hope he didn't get kidnapped again..."

" _Again_?" raising both her eyebrows, the blonde woman stared at him with careful alarm at his words, as if his calm demeanor confused her on how much she should be worrying at the moment.

"Yeah, he kind of..." he waved his hand around, trying to make a point but ending up letting out a frustrated groan instead, "He kind of keeps getting kidnapped by the local dragon..."

"The _local dragon_?" Sam supposed her bewilderment was justified. Usually talking about dragons came with a certain degree of distrust, loathe or fear, but the one that seemed to have made a nest in the nearby mountains had been so far anything but dangerous. In fact, it'd been downright peaceful.

Though, to be fair, part of the reason why they'd never sent anyone to take care of it directly was that, for a giant, winged, silvery-scaled lizard, it was astonishingly good at being stealthy when hiding from unwanted attention.

"Yes, it...just lives around here," he frowned, remembering all the oddities related to that particular magical creature.

"We never found its nest, but it doesn't really hurt or attack anyone. It stole a sheep once, but it was only once..." he helplessly shrugged, like it always happened when the subject of their kingdom's sorta-friendly-dragon was broached. "It just...kidnaps Dean a lot. Dean usually manages to escape without being harmed too."

Which was another weird thing about that dragon. So far his brother had been kidnapped a wondrous total of eleven times in five weeks and not even once he'd come back with as much as a scratch on his body – Mary had made sure of it, insisting that he should be checked by their court physician every single time.

In fact, it was usually the Knights that Sam sent after him that ended up taking the brunt of his capture by falling into traps that were starting to eerily remind him of the ones he and Dean used on his each during their prank wars.

His brother couldn't be possibly trying to make friends with a _dragon_ , right?

"Don't dragons usually kidnap princesses?" when he focused his attention back on the woman standing next to him, he found her peering at him with speculating amusement.

"Not this one apparently."

Jessica paused, her face squinting, while she pondered over that new piece of information more thoroughly than Sam thought to be necessary.

"Well, I hope he's just hiding somewhere in the castle," she slowly said in the end, an expression on her face that he wasn't quite sure how to interpret.

"He probably is," Sam sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "I'm getting paranoid with this whole dragon thing: he'll probably reappear for the banquet just to get his hands on some pie," because, while lacking common sense, their Dad was smart enough to demand that Ellen made at least three different kind of pies whenever he was trying to set Dean up with the newest young noblelady available, knowing full well that his firstborn was obsessed enough with that particular pastry, that he would show up even if it meant enduring a never-ending line of potential fiancées.

"Well then, since I can see that all the socializing from this morning worn you out..." Jessica commented, her eyes now gleaming with teasing mischief, "I suggest we take a quiet walk in the gardens."

"That's quite a wonderful idea, my lady," Sam laughed in return and offered his arm once again.

  
~~ oOo ~ (1) ~ oOo ~~  
  


Dean did not reappear for the banquet.

In fact, halfway through the afternoon, he was still nowhere to be found. Sam was beginning to fear once again that his brother had fallen victim to the umpteen kidnapping.

He was already planning to assemble a rescue party – and making a mental note to let the castle's physician know they should be ready to take care of the traps-related wounds that Sam's Knights would be inevitably withstanding – when the answer to his fretting came from the most unlikely source.

"I think I saw him with Ellen this morning?" Kevin, the youngest member of the court, and royal scribe, commented when posed with the same query that the prince had been asking all day long, "Maybe she knows where he is..."

Sparing an instant to thank him for his help, Sam was quick to follow that new lead and make his way through the castle's corridors with a hurried stride: Ellen Harvelle was the woman in charge of the kitchens – ruling them with an iron fist that not even his father dared to challenge – so that was the most likely place where she could be found.

When he reached his destination, the first thing he noticed was the warm air filling the room, making it even more so than it was in the rest of the castle during summer. The sound of crackling wood reached his ears and he noticed with a frown the heating oven: usually it was only used early in the morning, when pastries and bread for the whole court was baked, so he was surprised to see it in use in the middle of the afternoon.

It was when something moved just at the corner of his vision that he finally noticed his brother standing near the window and looking back at him with the most panicked look Sam had seen on his face since, still kids, they had a far-too-close encounter with a wild boar.

At his side was an older, blond woman that the younger prince recognized as Ellen in the few moments of attention he gave her – just enough to nod a greeting – before turning his attention back on his brother.

"Sammy?" Dean stared at him, green eyes wide while he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He looked extremely uncomfortable...

"What are you doing here?" the older prince continued, oblivious to his brother's confusion.

"I was searching for you..." Sam slowly replied, his gaze narrowing in suspicion when he noticed how the other was starting to fidget under his scrutiny.

That wasn't normal behavior for him. Usually his brother was anything but twitchy, especially when it came to their interaction, so why was he giving off the impression that he would have already bolted out of the room if Sam hadn't been standing in front of the door?

"You've been missing for most of the day and I was starting to think you'd been kidnapped again by your dragon admirer..." he added after another instant of silence.

"No, no, I was just here, talking to Ellen," the almost hysterical laugh that left Dean at those words made Sam narrow his eyes even further.

He was missing something. He knew he was missing something...

After letting his attention take a step back, examining his brother from a wider angle, he finally noticed the other's attire: he was wearing the comfortable clothes that he usually put on when he went hunting on his own – an activity that had more than once been cause of quarrel between Dean and their father, who insisted both him and Sam should always have an escort when stepping outside the castle's walls – with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the strings of his shirt collar kept loose to allow more air to cool his flushed skin, a sign that he must have been in the kitchens for quite some time.

Also, half of his clothes were covered in flour, and it took Sam only a quick glance to the big table at the center of the room to fully realize what was going on.

"Are you making pie?!" he asked, unable to hide his bewilderment because, while very fond – bordering on obsessed – of that particular pastry, his brother had never actually made one himself. Sam had seen him try enough times – and always end up with the dough and filling mostly eaten before they could even reach the oven – to know that the perfectly unmarred, still-to-be-baked pie comfortably resting near a bag of flour was a downright miracle.

"I..." the panicked look was back on Dean's face with more force than ever, and Sam bemusedly watched as green eyes darted around the room, searching for something to say, before the older prince raised his hand to scratch the back of his neck with obvious embarrassment written on his face "...maybe?"

"You do realize you would have got as much as you wanted if you'd been present at the banquet, right?" he pointed out, studying his brother as embarrassment turned to confusion and then to horror when the other finally realized just how late it was into the day.

"Shit!" Dean sharply turned to stare at the sky through the window, taking in the sun's current position with a quick glance before cursing again, "Shit! Dad's gonna kill me!"

When he quickly moved to a nearby bucket of water, trying to clean as much flour and residual dough from his hands and clothes as he could, Sam sent a quick questioning look in Ellen's way, feeling his eyebrows crawling up his forehead while he tried to silently convey "What the heck is wrong with my brother?".

The woman's only reply was a shrug. She looked amused and a grin was bending her lips slightly upwards as she watched the older prince fretting around in his haste to clean any evidence of what he'd been doing all day long from his body.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" the litany of muttered curses continued until Dean seemed satisfied with how he looked "Ellen, can you watch the pie while it bakes?" he hastily asked as he made his way towards the door.

"Sure thing, kid," the woman replied with a chuckle. "Don't worry about it, you go make sure your father doesn't decide to personally hunt you down."

"Hell, don't even joke about it: I learned my lesson the last time I tried to avoid him from auctioning me off to the highest bidder," the older prince grimaced, and Sam couldn't help wincing in sympathy at the evoked image of the memorable roasting his brother had been given at the time. Granted, if it had been Sam in his place, he would have probably started a shouting match with their father, but Dean was too used to be at their dad's beck and calls to properly verbalize when enough was enough.

"The last time you tried to avoid one of his attempts to marry you off, you were kidnapped by a dragon before John could actually follow through with any of his threats," Ellen scoffed, waving a dismissive hand.

She didn't seem to notice the embarrassed flush that her words brought on Dean's face, but Sam did. As much as he heard the quiet, almost shy, "Yeah, that happened..." that followed.

"Not to mention your mother would cut his balls off if he tried to harm any of you two kids," the woman continued with a sly little smirk, "I say your father got the best deal out of that one."

Both princes choked on air. Yes, they knew their mother used to hold Sam's current position as Captain of the Royal Knights before marrying their father, but that didn't make any reference to her proficiency with blades – especially in relation to parts of their Dad's anatomy that made them shift to cover their crotches in sympathy – any less disturbing. She was their _mother_ for Heaven's sake!

"Now scoot, the both of you," Ellen ordered but only Dean quickly left the room. Sam watched him go, squinting his eyes as if that would make him understand better what was going on with his brother's behavior. He wasn't an idiot, he was aware of the fact that the other hadn't really told him why he had suddenly felt the need of making his own pie. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he found Dean's bashfulness towards the whole topic puzzling.

Turning his attention again on the woman now moving to put the pastry in the oven, Sam couldn't help but ask, "So, what's with the pie?"

Ellen sent him a considering look, studying him carefully in a way that made him feel like he was a child again and she was warning him not to eat from the cookie dough resting in a bowl on the table, before an amused smile bent her lips.

"Ask your brother, kid," she replied and added nothing more on the subject.

(After a few hours Sam went to check on his brother only to find that Dean had vanished once again, and so had the pie.)

  
~~ oOo ~ (2) ~ oOo ~~  
  


The weeks that followed were uneventful – although Dean did manage to avoid marriage for the time being – and Sam forgot about the whole pie incident, too busy keeping up with a new batch of trainees, that had recently joined the ranks of his Knights, to focus his attention on a single slightly puzzling – but definitely not worrying – incident.

Soon summer came, and, with it, the preparations for the Mid-Summer Festival that was held every year in the streets outside the castle's walls. People were already buzzing around excitedly, busying themselves with setting up the stands for the fair that would start in a few more days and last until the end of the month.

It was a continuous clamor of voices, parents calling their kids to help them out, and merchants already starting to make deals with one another, taking advantage of the fact that most of the crowd that the Festival usually attracted from the nearby towns still had to arrive.

Sam loved it. He loved seeing the people he worked so hard to protect so carefree and happy once in a while: he knew that many of them had a difficult life – much more than he'd like to think about – but so far the weather had been favorable and the crops had grown strong and rich, so hopefully, once winter arrived, it wouldn't bring too much trouble; his mother always tried to do her best to make sure that everyone got enough food to last until spring – no matter how much John scowled every time she mingled herself with the common people – but some years were hard on all of them.

Shaking his head to clear it from those gloomy thoughts, he let himself walk through one of the many streets that had already been set up to hold the majority of the fair. People smiled and greeted him as he passed through, and he answered in kind, feeling his mood raise again at the sight of so much happiness filling the air.

He laughed when a couple of kids cut his way in their focused attempts to chase one another, waving off their mother's attempt to apologize for their misbehavior when she came running after them, before focusing his attention on a nearby table filled with colorful goods.

It was while he was studying a stand displaying various carved figures of exotic animals and deities from nearby kingdoms – wondering if he should buy some of them to give Jess as a present – that he heard a familiar voice filter through the loud buzzing of the people around him.

"And you say this is the rarest you got?" Sam turned and sure enough there was Dean, standing about two dozen feet at his left and frowning at a potted plant harmlessly sitting on the stand in front of him.

"Not going to find anything rarer around here," a self-satisfied voice replied, making the younger prince frown, sure that he knew its owner, and lean a bit to peer at the man speaking to his brother.

Oh, Hell, he should have known it would be Gabriel!

The small merchant was a fixed feature of all the major fairs that were held during the year, and he always distinguished himself for his smugness, his rudeness, his ability to make every single stand of sweets sell out all of their products, and his abnormally varied repertoire of merchandise – which, apparently, had widened to include exotic potted plants since the last time Sam had seen him around.

Incidentally, the last time Sam had seen him around, he had also needed to buy a present for Jess from him, which had resulted in one of the most frustrating and exhausting trades he had ever been part of, and in him being awarded with the title of "Stallion", "Moose", "Sasquatch", "Tall, Dark and Handsome", and "Hello There, Mind If I Climb You Like A Pole?".

Suffices to say, Sam didn't want to repeat that experience ever again – especially because he'd the bugging suspicion that this time around it would include a lot more sexual teasing – which was reason enough for him to refuse approaching the loud merchant and, consequentially, his brother.

He did take a few careful steps closer to better hear the rest of the conversation, though.

"It's called Dragon's Dream – I know, corny name, but what can you do about it, it's not like there are many people with decent flower-naming skills – and supposedly it makes people feel happy when they take a whiff of its flowers," the merchant continued, popping in his mouth one of the hard candies that were sold two stands further up from his. Sam wondered if he'd already managed to make any of the sweets stands sell out.

"Supposedly?" he heard his brother ask, doubt clear in his voice while he tilted his head to eye the plant harmlessly resting on the table in front of him. It kind of looked like lavender, with tiny silvery flowers all grouped together in an elongated central stalk, and small light green leaves.

"Well, I never actually tried; I'm not much of a flower appreciator," Gabriel shrugged, "but considering that the guy I got it from – who kind of, you know had a whole _field_ of them – was the cheeriest, most active person I've met in ages? Hey, I'm gonna make a leap and say it works just dandy," he commented with a shrug. His eyes were entirely focused on the prince in front of him, allowing Sam to sneak behind a nearby stand in order to more easily eavesdrop on the conversation, while still remaining conveniently hidden from their view.

"That sounds like those plants they use in the south to get high," Dean commented, his tone making it clear that he wasn't particularly happy about it.

"Except that this one doesn't actually make you addicted to it," the merchant was quick to reply, a grin on his face while he tapped the edge of the pot to underline his point. "It just works as a mood booster."

Sam couldn't see the look on his brother's face, but he knew from the other's posture that he was pondering on those words: he wouldn't be surprised if Dean had a frown on his face and his lips pinched in concentration.

"And you say it's not harmful to people?" he slowly asked, waiting for Gabriel to nod in confirmation before continuing, "What about other creatures?" the query was posed hesitantly, as if the older prince hadn't been quite certain up to the very last moment if he wanted to express it or not.

Feeling a confused frown creasing his forehead Sam wondered what his brother was planning: there weren't many animals at the castle – mostly horses in the stables and hunting dogs who remained in their pens the majority of time – so why was he asking that? Was he planning to give the plant to someone owning a pet? He was pretty sure that the only friends his brother had were part of the Royal Knights, and he couldn't remember any of them mentioning anything about having animals at home.

"I don't have a clue," his attention was brought back on the conversation when Gabriel answered with a shrug, "never tried it, but that's not the right question we should be asking here, is it?" the merchant's brown eyes narrowed in amusement, as if he were reading something on Dean's face that made him gleefully delighted for some reason. "The right question is: why are _you_ suddenly interested in flowers, lover boy? You've never particularly struck me as a flowers-and-poetry kind of guy..."

Sam couldn't see Dean's reaction at that question, but he did definitely notice the self-satisfied grin that made its way on the Gabriel's face, as much as he noticed the familiar way in which his brother was squirming under the shorter man's stare.

"That's none of your business!" the older prince snapped after a few more instants, in a way that Sam was used to see him do when he was embarrassed, "Are you selling it to me or not?"

"Tell you what," Gabriel hummed, his eyes narrowing in the same expression of someone watching a pet attempting a particularly amusing trick, "since I obviously offended your delicate feelings, I'll sell the plant to you with a discount, _and_ I'll add a free piece of advice to it."

That sounded like something the chatty merchant would say. Usually Sam wouldn't give much weight to any suggestion coming from that man – especially after all the sexual tips that the smaller man had tried to give him the last time they spoke – but the amusement on Gabriel's face had suddenly subsided, replaced by an intense stare that completely focused on Dean, and his face had grown serious like the younger prince had never seen it before.

Sam unconsciously leaned closer, now far more invested in hearing what the merchant was going to say next.

"If you're trying to—" he started, only for the rest of the sentence to drift out of Sam's focus when someone suddenly bumped against him from behind. When he regained his balance, he noticed a small, redheaded woman intent in apologizing to him while she bowed her whole body to ask for her prince's forgiveness. Only when he reassured her that it was all right and no harm was done, she thanked him for his kindness and quickly skirted away to vanish back into the crowd where she'd come from.

With a mental curse to his bad luck Sam brought his attention back on Gabriel, still hoping to hear something interesting, only to be disappointed when he managed to catch just the end of his suggestion.

"—at least find out what they're interested in to begin with."

Well, that sounded cryptic.

It didn't help his curiosity one bit that, at the merchant's words of advice, Dean had apparently gone rigid where he was standing, hands close in tight fists at his sides.

"Fuck you," Sam heard him spit out after a while, his voice livid with repressed rage, and then he watched as his brother took a few coins from one of the pouches hanging from his belt, slammed them on the table of Gabriel's stand, snatched the potted plant from the merchant's extended hands and promptly strode off without adding another word.

Well, that was...a bit of an overreaction, to tell the truth.

Sam could understand the frustration that came from talking to the smaller man, but the last part of the discussion had sounded harmless enough – even if he hadn't been able to catch all of it – and yet his brother's behavior had been completely rude even by his standards.

He repeated what he'd heard of the conversation in his head for several minutes, but he couldn't find anything offensive about it.

When he turned his attention back on Gabriel, the merchant grinned in his direction and winked.

  
~~ oOo ~ (3) ~ oOo ~~  
  


A week after the beginning of the Mid-Summer Festival, Sam was faced with the indisputable proof that something was definitely going on with his brother.

Now, the young prince was the first to admit that at times he could be a bit naive when it came to Dean's mischiefs – which, by the way, had also caused him more than one unpleasant surprise during their famed prank wars – but even he couldn't ignore the fact that Chuck Shurley, the same Chuck Shurley who made the ring Sam had given to Jess for their engagement, was asking him about his brother's location because apparently they 'had an appointment'.

"What does Dean want with you?" he found himself asking, a frown on his face while he studied the nervous man in front of him. The jeweler's gaze was shifting all over the place in a show of discomfort – which, to be fair, was not entirely unusual for him – and he kept rubbing his hands together even while he shrugged in reply.

"He said I shouldn't talk about it?" he sounded uncertain, as if he were asking Sam if that was the right answer to his query, "He said it was something private, and that I shouldn't tell anyone? I mean...it's not like he told me anything more specific. He just said he wanted me to make something for him..."

Now, if there was something Sam was sure about, it was without the trace of a doubt that his brother was _not_ a jewelry kind of guy: Dean loudly complained every time he was forced to spruce up due to the visits of the many dignitaries that often came from the neighboring countries, so the younger prince highly doubted that he would ever willingly buy any kind of overpriced adornment for himself.

This left him with a bit of a conundrum, because if his brother really was going to require Chuck's services for something that he didn't intend to wear – and Sam was still convinced this to be the case – then the only reasonable explanation to the situation was that Dean was planning to gift whatever-he-wanted-the-jeweler-to-make to someone else.

The only issue with that line of thought was that Sam really had no idea who might be at the recipient end of such a present – not when his brother was the one giving it anyway – because, aside from the times Dean went to the tavern with him and a few carefully chosen Knights to drink the stresses of the day out of their bodies, the only recurring interactions his brother had with other living beings, all involved a certain local dragon, and, as much as Sam was convinced that the winged creature mostly had no malevolent intentions towards them, the idea of Dean gifting it expensive jewelry was just plain ridiculous.

"Hum...sir?" the uncertain voice of the smaller man brought him back from his musing "C-can I go now? I...I really don't think I should make your brother wait" he was fidgeting again in a way that was beginning to make Sam nervous.

"Sure, go ahead," he sighed as he patted the other's shoulder in a gesture of reassurance which didn't seem to serve much of its purpose. "Thanks for the help."

Following Chuck with his gaze while the small jeweler let out a hurried goodbye and quickly stumbled his way down the corridor, Sam unconsciously raised his hand to tap at his lips while he considered what to do next: he knew Dean well enough to be aware of the fact that straight-out asking would never work with him – even worse, it would make him defensive and more careful in hiding what he was doing.

No, Sam needed to use a more subtle approach and, more importantly, he needed more information to work with.

He squinted his eyes trying to remember if Jo's shift had already ended.

******

The worst thing about sentry duty was that feeling bored made you lucky, as it meant that the castle wasn't under attack.

The best thing about sentry duty was that, if you needed to talk privately to one of the sentries, no-one would ever witness it.

Sam found a new appreciation for the isolation that the turret provided, when Jo started doubling over at his legitimate queries about his brother. She was leaning against the stone window sill, one gloved hand pressed against her mouth while she tried to stop – without much success – her laughter.

"Wait, wait, wait. Let me get this straight: are you asking me if Dean actually _fancies_ some girl in town so much that he's sneaking outside to give her presents when no-one is watching?" she asked once her amusement was reined back in place. Her eyes were still sparkling with mirth but at least she didn't look like she might need to remove her chainmail in order to breathe anymore.

Jo Harvelle was one of the few women who were part of the Royal Knights, and, even though she appeared smaller than she actually was in her armor, Sam knew better than to judge her by her sweet smile and blond hair: she was a relentless nightmare in battle almost as much as Dean could be when in one of his bad moods. She'd joined the Knights following her father's footsteps after he'd died to protect a fellow knight from a werewolf while they were patrolling the lower regions of the kingdom, and she'd soon distinguished herself for sheer stubbornness into making everyone understand that, just because she was a woman, it didn't mean she couldn't kick everyone's asses if she so desired.

"It's really not funny," Sam replied with an impatient groan. "If our father finds out about it, it's gonna end up in a bloodbath!"

"Oh, come on! Now you're just being melodramatic: if the King kills Dean, who is gonna give him the grandchildren he wants?" she replied, leaning against the wall while she peered back at him with a complete lack of sympathy to his protestations, "You? Not to be blunt, Captain, but if he could be appeased with just that, he wouldn't insist so much that your brother get married as soon as possible..." she paused, a grin making its way on her face "He wants to see Dean's children: he isn't going to kill him until his future wife has given him at least a couple of them"

"I'm more worried about the poor girl my brother is apparently seeing, in spite of the fact that he should know better," Sam grumbled, absently rubbing his forehead when he began to suspect that he was likely going to gain a migraine from that messy situation.

"There's no girl," was what he received in return, Jo's tone becoming more serious when she spoke again, "I know your brother and he always brags to me about his...conquests," her voice hesitated just for an instant before she repeated.

"There's no girl. Or lady of any sort."

Sam frowned. Again he felt that irritating sensation of having missed something important and he squinted his eyes while he carefully studied the female knight in front of him: there was something about her wording that bothered him and kept needling at a corner of is mind to gain his attention, but he couldn't quite—

"What about men?" he asked before his brain could properly catch up with his mouth, feeling slightly vindicated when a brief gleam of panic flashed through Jo's face.

"What about them?" she asked once she had recovered enough to absently wave her hand, showing a degree of fake calm that Sam didn't trust even for an instant.

"Jo," he said, stepping closer: he usually tried to avoid towering over his knights, preferring to use a less threatening approach to make them respect his authority, but he knew full well how to take advantage of his height when he wanted to. "Is Dean courting a _man_?"

"I...I don't..." she started, her gaze shifting to the ground for a moment before her resolution finally gave in under Sam's stare, "maybe?" she slowly admitted, raising a hand to scratch the back of her neck in embarrassment.

"It's not like I've seen him with women before..." the last part was added in a mumble that the prince only caught because he was still standing next to her.

"What do you mean by that?" he frowned, watching with increasing disquiet the slow grimace that was beginning to make its way on his subordinate's face. The whole discussion was starting to outline a picture which spelled nothing but trouble, angry shouting and threats of disownment in his brother's future.

"Please don't make me say it: Dean made me promise not to..." she pleaded, squirming a bit under his gaze in obvious uneasiness at the idea of betraying her friend's trust. While she was of humble origins and had to raise through the Knights ranks with her achievement rather than birthright, she used to play with both the princes when they were still kids; it was understandable that she didn't want to go back on her word, but Sam was beginning to feel frustrated enough by everyone's shiftiness not to care anymore.

"Jo," his eyes narrowed, her name coming out almost in a low growl that clearly let her know how _tired_ he was of being treated like he was the enemy here.

"Ok, ok!" the Knight raised her hands in a gesture of peace, "You know all those rumors about Dean and the fact that there isn't a woman in town he hasn't been with?" she asked, only continuing when the prince nodded in return, "Well, I might have started a few of them...all right, no, I've started _most_ of them. I might also have changed a couple of details, like, uh, the fact that they weren't exactly women to begin with?"

"Dammit, Dean!" the curse that left Sam at her admission was mostly filled with frustration, but the prince also felt a bit put off that Dean would feel the need to use the ladies-man cover even with him. Normally they faced off any problem like a single front and he had no idea why his brother would believe that his opinion of him would change because of who he liked to bring to his bed – at least now the likelihood of Dean having impregnated someone by accident with one of his supposed escapes had considerably dropped.

He tried to remember if he'd ever witnessed any sign of his brother's preferences but he was drawing a complete blank: the other must have been very careful not to be seen by any member of the family or by other people they knew.

Unless they were all lying like Jo had been, which was an even more upsetting protective...

His inner contempt must have shown on his face, because it only took Jo a look at his expression for her to quickly continue with her explanation.

"It's not like he told me either; I just walked in on him making out with one of the stable-boys – which, by the way, seems to be a thing happening in every court: those stable-boys really get around..." she commented, her tone becoming one that would be normally used to soothe a wounded animal, while she peered at her Captain like he might lash out at any moment. "He kind of freaked out when he found out I saw most of it, so I had to promise not to tell anyone about it to calm him down..."

There was the beginning of a headache forming somewhere in Sam's skull, and he absently rubbed his temple in an attempt to quell it before it could evolve into a full migraine. The fact that Dean was sleeping with men was not the issue – or, at the very least, it wouldn't be as long as their father didn't find out about it – what worried him the most was that, apparently, his brother had decided that it was absolutely normal to court one like they were some kind of unengaged noble lady. It spelled committment to a degree that Sam didn't even want to start considering.

The only upside of the whole situation was that Sam knew his brother to be at least smart enough to check beforehand if the object of his interest was human, or if they only posed themselves as such.

  
~~ oOo ~ (4) ~ oOo ~~  
  


Sam managed to resist one day before surrendering to his need to know more about the man that his brother was courting. He rationalized it by telling himself that he had to make sure no-one was trying to take advantage of his position as crown prince.

That, of course, was the only reason why he was currently trying to lock pick Dean's room.

If he still felt a bit miffed by the fact that his brother had decided to keep his preferences hidden from him as if Sam would ever reject him for something like that, well...it was only incidental in his decision to check the other's belongings while he wasn't around.

When he finally heard the sound of the lock giving in under his insistence, he was quick to step through the door, quietly closing it behind himself to avoid anyone walking down the hallway to suspect his presence inside.

The room was simply furnished, not as lavishly decorated as the chamber of the crown prince usually was in the courts of the nearby kingdoms, since Dean insisted he'd rather it be practical than pretty to look at. The large, comfortable bed resting against the farthest wall was the one commodity he allowed himself, otherwise a chest of drawers, a desk, a table and some chairs were the only other pieces of furniture present.

Sam knew that his brother kept the desk locked, using it to store documents and letters that he might need during his training as future king of the reign, but he also was aware of the fact that, if Dean wanted to keep something concealed from others, he wouldn't hide it in such an obvious place: anyone who entered the room with the intention of snooping around or steal anything would check the locked drawers first.

This considered, he moved towards the wooden chest at the left side of the bed. He remembered that, when they were kids and still sharing that same room, he and Dean used to hide shiny stones in the false bottom, so, knowing his brother's propensity for caution when it came to matters he found embarrassing or too personal to let anyone know about them, it was only reasonable to make sure nothing was hidden there.

After a cursory check of the drawers that confirmed they were being used only to store clothes and a handful of well-loved books – which Dean probably re-read often enough that he'd learned to keep them nearby instead of having to go to the castle's library every time he was in the mood for one of them – Sam knelt on the stone floor. He let his fingers trace the outline of the chest's lower corners, feeling the smooth underside until he found the mechanism used to release the decorated panel placed as the cover of the secret compartment.

A soft click reached his ears and he'd to crouch down even further to look inside, his impressive height showing to be a hindrance in this case where it was so useful during a fight, frowning when his gaze laid on what appeared to be a handful of small pouches – not bigger than half of one of his fists would be – crowding against the back of the chest.

They were made of black leather, sewed together with silvery threads, and, while Sam pulled them out of their hiding place to orderly place them on the floor, he heard the sound of jingling metal every time he shifted their weight in his hands. Once they were all displayed in front of him, he allowed himself to examine them more closely: there were six of them, each one closed by a simple silver buckle and decorated on the front by what looked like the number thirteen with a small slash right across its middle.

Squinting in confusion, the prince frowned: were they part of a set? Were there supposed to be seven more hidden somewhere else?

Sam gave a quick glance to the rest of the room, instinctively taking note of other possible hiding places: he still needed to check the desk – that much was obvious – but maybe he should make sure that Dean didn't decide to store other things under his mattress as well...no, that was ridiculous: servants periodically changed the sheets and the mattress' filling itself to avoid lice and mold, and they would have noticed anything hidden there.

His gaze fell back on the small bags in front of him. He felt a bit uncomfortable at the idea of snooping in his brother's stuff, but that sensation quickly faded when he reminded himself he was only doing it to make sure that Dean wasn't being taken advantage of by whoever he had been meeting with: if the older prince had told him himself what he had been doing recently every time he went missing, Sam wouldn't have felt so entitled to find out firsthand what exactly was going on.

Surely a bit of worry for his brother's safety was completely justified.

Without wasting any more time, he opened one of the pouches, bringing it closer to his face to peer inside while the silence of the room was interrupted again by the sound of jingling metal. He let the content slip in his waiting hand and frowned when about a dozen silver coins rested in his palm: he easily recognized the mark of their kingdom engraved on the otherwise smooth surface, and he wondered what exactly his brother intended to do with them.

Was the guy he was courting asking him for money?

Even worse: was Dean being blackmailed? Threatened for his preferences to be publicly revealed if he didn't comply with the other's demands? Being attracted to other men wasn't strictly prohibited like it happened in some of the neighboring countries but, as a crown prince, his brother was at the very least supposed to take a wife and have heirs: for him to be only interested in partners that couldn't give him any children was going to end up in a giant mess sooner or later.

Blackmail, however, seemed unlikely to be attempted for such a small amount – if someone wanted to exploit the secrets of a person in as high a position as his brother was, wouldn't they ask for more? For gold rather than silver? – even if the rest of the pouches showed to hide a similar content.

The confused frown on Sam's face only grew deeper when he opened the second bag and again thirteen silver coins slipped into his hand. The same happened with the third, the fourth and every other remaining bag: every single one of them held exactly thirteen silver coins and the only difference between one group and the next was that every pouch seemed to contain money from a different country.

It was too repetitive to be a casuality, but he had no idea what it could mean or why his brother had apparently felt the need to collect currencies from distinct kingdoms in a pattern of thirteen. It made no sense, no matter how much he squinted and tried to wrap his head around it.

With a frustrated sound he gave a last glance at his findings in the vain hope that some kind of idea would come to him, but once it became apparent to him that he wouldn't be getting anywhere by staring at half a dozen bags, he quickly put everything back in its proper place, closing the hidden compartment before rising to his feet in one fluid motion.

He quickly made his way towards the desk at the other side of the room to find out, as predicted, that the drawers were indeed firmly locked. Without hesitation he reached in his pocket and pulled out the lock pick he'd brought with himself in prevision of that eventuality. As a prince he wasn't technically supposed to know how to do something like that, but you were bound to pick up some stuff when you passed most of your time with people that might or might not have acquired that skill at some point in their lives: while the Royal Knights were mostly comprised of noble people, there still was a pretty big part of them with more common backgrounds. Everyone was admitted to join if they showed to be skilled enough and had an appropriate conduct: abuse of power inside their rows was unacceptable no matter the origins of the abuser. It was a rule that had been implemented by his mother and which Sam still abode by.

It only took a minute to hear the sound of the lock clicking open, and then he could finally peer inside. For the most part it was filled with signed papers – a lot of which were too official to be anything related to Sam's quest – and letters – a lot of which bore the seals of kingdoms he recognized and that, upon further inspection, didn't seem to be of any help to find out who the mysterious object of his brother's attention was.

He was about to put everything back in its place, more frustrated and unsatisfied than ever with his lack of progress, when a soft shimmer coming from deep inside the drawer caught his attention. There was something tucked against the back and, after Sam pulled it out to take a better look at it, it shined brightly under the light coming from the nearby window.

With no idea of what he was holding in his hands, the prince let his gaze sweep over the smooth, reflective surface. Judging solely by its seed-like shape, he would have called it a mirror, except, not only it seemed kind of small – less than a foot at its longest – and had no frame whatsoever, but it also felt too light to be made of polished metal. It wasn't a plate either. It just was a tear-shaped, sort of silvery, piece of some reflective material whose name was unknown to him.

He had no idea where Dean might have found it.

Upon further inspection, the confusing sensation of having seen it before began to prod at his mind, but he wasn't quite sure why he felt like that. He turned it under the sun filtering in through the window and shut his lids when a sudden flash of light filled the room. He could feel his eyes pulse painfully even as he opened them once again, as much as he was aware of the annoying red blotches now staining his sight.

That wasn't the first time he was blinded so thoroughly without directly looking at the sun, he was sure it had happened befor—

"What the hell are you doing in my room?!" Sam almost jumped out of his skin and nearly dropped the flat, unnamed thing in his hands, when Dean's shout came from the door. He sharply turned around to find his brother staring back at him, green eyes wide in horror that quickly started turning into rage once his gaze fell on the open desk next to the younger prince.

"What the fuck, Sammy?!" in two long strides Dean was next to him, snatching the weird seed-shaped object from his hands and shoving it in one of the poaches hanging from his belt – he must have sneaked out again, because usually he only used such large bags when he went hunting.

When he raised his gaze back on his brother's face, Sam couldn't help but wince a bit at the angry scowl that was being directed at him, feeling the heat of embarrassment redden his face: yes, he could admit that Dean's reaction was justified, but the younger prince also had perfectly good reasons to sneak inside the other's room. Surely that had to count for something, right?

"Uh, hi?" he tried with an uncertain smile, "I can actually explain why I'm here..." he added, inwardly chastising himself as soon as those words left his mouth: that didn’t make him sound guilty _at all_. Sheesh!

"Good. Now get the fuck out," it was with no surprise at all that he heard his brother's snappy reply, before he felt the other's hand wrap around his arm like a vice, pulling him towards the door with the same unstoppable stride of a charging bull: in spite of being shorter than him, Dean still managed to manhandled him just fine when he wanted to.

"Dean, wait!" he struggled against the other's hold, freeing himself only when they were only a step away from the room's entrance. He quickly turned to face his brother as he continued, ignoring the deepening frown on his face, "You've to listen to me! I needed to do it! You've been acting weird for weeks now and no-one knew what was up with you! You keep coming and going at the weirdest hours! I saw you buy flowers from Gabriel – freaking _flowers_ , Dean! – and Chuck told me you wanted him to make something for you and...and..."

As he kept talking, he watched with a certain apprehension while the color slowly drained from his brother's face, leaving him looking like a lost ghost trying to find their way back beyond the Veil. Green eyes stared back at him with something that was quickly beginning to resemble dread while the older man's body grew more and more rigid under his gaze.

"What are you talking about, Sammy?" Dean tried to fake ignorance, but the fact that his voice came out more like a barely audible whisper than an enraged growl was reason enough for Sam to step closer to squeeze his brother's shoulders in an instinctive gesture of reassurance: it was obvious that the other had already guessed what the younger prince was alluding to, and the latter needed to let him know that it was ok, that he was fine with it and there was no reason to panic.

"Dean, I know what you've been up to, all right?" the older prince squirmed a bit in his hold, green eyes wide and panicked, "I know you like men in more than in a 'let's go have fun at the tavern' kind of way, and I know that you're...uh...courting one," Sam ignored the sharp intake of breath that answered those words to quickly add, "I don't care. Actually the only reason I'm not feeling insulted that you thought it would change anything, is that I can tell you're freaking out."

Those words seemed to sober the other up: Sam watched as the meaning of what he'd just said sank in, Dean's eyes closing for a long moment while he took a deep breath. His lips moved in what Sam guessed to be curses at his expenses and then the color slowly began to rise back to his face, making the older prince look less like a ghost and more like a just slightly sick, average person.

"I'm not freaking out..." Dean sighed, shrugging off Sam's hands from his shoulders and taking a step back to restore a more comfortable distance between them.

"You definitely were," the younger man replied, allowing himself to sport a teasing grin now that he could easily see relief taking over his brother's previous panicked state.

"Whatever you say," the other answered, rolling his eyes while he urged him to take the few steps remaining to leave the room. "Now get your giant body somewhere else: unlike your snooping ass, I actually got stuff to do"

Even as the door closed behind him, Sam couldn't help a satisfied grin from forming on his face: he might have not found out who the object of his brother's attention was, but Dean had finally sort of admitted his preferences to his face and they had agreed it changed nothing between them.

He counted it a success.

******

The next day, Sam found that his breakfast had been spiked with castor oil.

He supposed he deserved it.

  
~~ oOo ~ (5) ~ oOo ~~  
  


Now that everything concerning his brother's interests had been successfully sorted out, Sam felt considerably more relaxed. Sure, there was still the issue of finding out who exactly Dean was showering in gifts, but he supposed that, now that the other knew they were on the same side, he would be told whenever the older man felt ready to do it. Honestly, at this point, he was more curious to know who had managed the almost unprecedented feat of catching his brother's attention for six weeks straight than worried about it.

The only real problem that still needed resolution was finding a way to break the news to their father if Dean was successful in his wooing attempts. It was probably going to end up in a fight no matter how much they tried to butter him up beforehand, but they could still at least try to prevent any actual bloodshed from happening.

Perhaps the smartest thing to do would be to inform their mother first: while Mary was usually passive when it came down to managing the kingdom and she let John do whatever he wanted in that regard – unless he was trying to follow a particularly bad idea – she also tended to have the last word in everything that concerned the castle and its inhabitants. Especially in everything that concerned her sons. Their father liked to fool himself into believing that he was the one in command of their lives, but the truth was that if Mary hadn't approved of Jessica, Sam wouldn't be engaged, and if she hadn't approved of Dean's potential fiancées, then they wouldn't have been allowed within a three-feet-distance from him.

Therefore, in the days that followed their heart-to-heart, Sam wasn't particularly concerned with Dean's secrecy about the object of his attentions: if it ever became more than an unrequited pursuit, more information was bound to be exposed once the whole situation was brought to their parents' attention.

In fact, even when he happened to see the older prince sneak out of the castle, he would only wave him off and remind him to come back before anyone else noticed or his father decided to send the hunting dogs after his trail. It usually prompted a series of flustered curses – which, truth be told, were quite amusing and part of the reason why the younger prince kept attracting his attention instead of simply letting him go on his way – but Sam knew that the other was grateful for the reminder that he always had his back.

When only a little less than a week was left to the first day of fall, he was so used to only catching brief glances of Dean when the latter was trying to leave the castle, that seeing him moving surreptitiously _inside_ the walls ended up having the opposite effect than the one intended, attracting Sam's attention instead of derailing it on other more conspicuous events going on around them.

It took the younger prince only a few instants of scrutiny to notice how carefully the other was acting, keeping himself aside from anyone passing by and outmaneuvering them before he could be entangled in any kind of chitchat. To anyone else it might have looked like the prince had simply not noticed them, but Sam knew his brother enough to recognize by his posture that the other was hiding something. From the direction he was taking, he'd most likely just left the castle's main structure and he was quickly making his way south-east through the courtyard, where the storage building and the smithy resided.

Curiosity renewed by this sudden change in routine – and really, when had 'waving his brother off to go see his secret almost-lover' become a routine? – and wanting to find out what was passing through the other's head now, Sam quickly followed in his steps, cautiously allowing a certain distance between them to make his presence less noticeable.

Luckily, while being very careful to avoid anyone coming from the opposite direction, Dean didn't seem overly concerned in making sure that no-one was pursuing him, probably believing that there was no reason for anyone to do so.

Once reached the end of their quick trip, Sam interests was piqued even more, especially when he saw his brother send a last glance around him before silently slip through the door of the smithy. He wondered, while he moved closer, what services the older prince might require from their blacksmith that demanded so much caution on his part: if it were a simple repair or some more mundane request, all this prudence wouldn't be needed.

His mind brought back to him the memory of a flat, seed-shaped object and he wondered if it had anything to do with it: in spite of having tried to both ask around and consult the library, he still had no idea what it was made of. It had been almost as reflective as a mirror, but the consistency and hardness of metal, and yet, in spite of that, it still hadn't felt cold at all in his hands, nor it had weighted more than a small bag of berries would have.

Maybe Dean wanted to find out if Benny, the castle's blacksmith, could make anything out of it.

Making sure not to be seen, Sam stepped closer to the window and carefully peered inside: the two men were standing near the forge at the other side of the room, their backs turned towards him. He could hear them talk but from his position it was difficult to understand the topic of their discussion.

From the way Benny had his arms outstretched towards his brother, Sam guessed that he was holding something out for the other prince to inspect, but he couldn't tell much more.

Did he make some kind of new weapon at Dean's request? Every once in a while the older prince would come up with a new idea on how to improve the castle's defenses, and it wasn't unheard of for him to ask Benny's assistance when it was needed. In spite of their differences in character, the prince and the blacksmith went along surprisingly well: Dean might have been more easily inflamed and reckless while Benny was more level-headed due to his older age, but the two of them shared an equally practical mind that, most of the time, made them come to the same conclusions whenever a problem in need of a solution arose.

"Does it look like you wanted it, brother?" the blacksmith's drawl finally managed to win against the distance separating the two men from the window. Sam winced a bit: he was used to Benny addressing Dean with such familiarity – the older prince, apparently, even liked it, since Jo was the only other person bold enough to do the same – but that didn't mean he would ever get used to it. It made him uncomfortable, like he should intervene to correct the older man even if Dean was perfectly able to do so himself if it really bothered him.

Sam didn't hear his brother's answer but he saw him nod before the blacksmith continued, "First time working with silver: the thing is more delicate than a newborn kitten, if I'd shaped it the usual way it would have become a smear all over the anvil."

"Thanks, Benny," when Dean sent a glance in the older man's direction, he had a grateful grin on his face and Sam saw the brief flash of light hitting on metal before the object in his brother's hands was turned once again away from his view.

"Not a problem. Though I wonder why you didn't ask the small guy to make it for you: he's more used to work with silver than me," the blacksmith commented, his light eyes peering at the older prince with lazy curiosity.

"Who? Chuck? I asked, but he'd no idea where to start to make a weapon," Dean shrugged, finally turning all the way. It forced Sam to pull back a bit to make sure he wouldn't be noticed, but his gaze finally fell on the reason why the other had asked for Benny's services. At first the object in his brother's hands appeared to him like nothing more than a thin, less-than-two-feet-long tube made out of precious metal, and it took him a few moments of focused staring to realize what he was truly looking at: it was not a tube but a dagger. The lack of cross-guard had fooled him for an instant, distracting him from the slim, triangular blade that extended from the smooth, cylindrical grip for a foot and a half before ending into a sharp point.

"If it's a weapon you wanted, that isn't going to be of much help," the blacksmith replied, bringing Sam's attention back on the two man still talking. "Like I said: silver's is frailer than a kitten"

It was true, it made no sense to forge a dagger out of it.

Unless Dean wasn't planning on using it as a weapon, but then wha—

Oh.

_Oh!_

Snapping his mouth shut before any sound could come out of it, the younger prince sharply pulled himself away from the window, pressing his back against the wall of the smithy. His eyes widened while his mind reeled under the realization that had just hit him: it was silver. It was always silver! First the flowers that Dean had bought from Gabriel, then Chuck wandering around the castle because his brother wanted him to make something for him – it must have been some kind of silver jewel, what else could it be? – then the six sets of thirteen silver coins that Sam had found in his brother's room, and now a silver dagger that look both pretty and deadly even if it wasn't supposed to be used in a fight.

They were gifts.

_They were all gifts!_

His brother was giving silver-themed presents to the man he was courting! It made him feel dizzy because, while he could understand one or two gifts during courtship, four seemed a bit too much, especially when it looked like Dean was trying to step up a level with each and every one of them – and what if there had been more gifts before he had noticed Dean's weird behavior and started questioning people about it? What if this whole thing had been going on for months?

His brother was not exactly known for subtlety when posed with an alternative: it made this roundabout way of trying to gain the graces of the object of his interests even more troubling because, if on one hand it meant that for once Dean was serious about pursuing someone, on the other hand the one pursued either didn't return his attentions or was completely oblivious to them. Both cases didn't seem much in his brother's favor and the younger prince couldn't help a sympathetic grimace from forming on his face.

"Seriously dude, stop stalking me!"

He almost lost his balance in his hurry to turn around when he heard Dean's unhappy comment: the crown prince was standing at less than three feet from him, a scowl on his face that spelled nothing but annoyance. There was a bundle of soft cloth in his arms which Sam strongly suspected to be wrapped around the silver dagger that had been the cause for his brother's trip to the smithy.

"I'm not stalking you!" the younger prince protested once his gaze raised back to the other's eyes "I just saw you cross the courtyard acting all careful and suspicious, and I got curious...and I followed you..." he added the last part in a grumble but the older man seemed to hear him anyway because the scowl bending his features grew even deeper.

"Look," Sam sighed in the end, nervously trailing his hand through his hair while he quickly made sure that no-one was listening to their conversation, "I just want to help, all right? I swear I'm not trying to interfere or anything like that. I know I'm the only one other than Jo to know about your..." he vaguely waved his hand when he saw his brother tense at his words. "So what I'm trying to say is: if you need to talk about it, you can come to me."

When the last word of his small speech fell into silence, the younger prince began to wonder if he would get an answer: he could see the mess of emotions that was swirling in his brother's mind from the way his forehead was creased and his lips were pinched together, and, sure, there was gratefulness and even a degree of hope in there, but Sam had not much trust in his brother's ability to say out loud what was passing through his head.

His predictions turned out to be true when Dean's expression first turned into a grimace and then – weirdly enough – in resolution.

"You read too many chick novels, Sammy," he stated, his voice becoming teasing and a confident grin made its way on his face while he continued, "I got everything under control. You can go back to braiding your hair with Jess, or to whatever you do in your free time."

Frustrated but not surprised by that outcome, Sam watched his brother turn away without waiting for an answer and promptly flee the scene before anything more could be added.

"Dammit, Dean!" he grumbled and began to think about his next move.

  
~~ oOo ~ (+1) ~ oOo ~~  
  


Sam should have known that something would go wrong when John – lo and behold! – allowed Dean to join him and a small group of Knights on their hunt with a relatively small amount of protest.

Supposedly it should have been a quick affair – find and contain a small group of creatures that had been killing livestock from the farms at the feet of the northwestern mountains – but, of course, the only man that had seen one of such raids, also happened not to be particularly knowledgeable in all things monster-related and, what they thought was going to be four or five overgrown lizards turned out to be a whole nest of wyverns instead.

Wyverns were not to be taken lightly and, especially, not to be confronted with only a small group of people: they were agile, could fly and, worse, the venom from the stinger on their tails spread extremely quickly once they managed a good hit on any living being. They were also vicious and relentless when protecting their nests, which summed up nicely to one conclusion: they were severely under-equipped to deal with this whole unpredictable complication. Normally they would have organized a hunting party of at least seven people, wearing heavier but more protective armors instead of the lighter outfit they were all sporting, and, more importantly, they would have brought with them a few vials of antidote for the beasts' venom.

The only upside to their current predicament, Sam wildly considered while he threw himself behind a nearby boulder to avoid the tail slashing the air just a foot away from him, was that wyverns made their homes in rocky grounds, which provided them with at least a bit of cover.

He sent a quick look around, taking in the situation: Jo was focused on one of the creatures, alternating unleashing sudden stabs with her sword and shielding herself from any retaliation by using a bulging protrusion in the side of the mountain as a wall between them, while Victor had almost managed to cut off the tail of another one. Then there was a third wyvern – the same beast that had forced him to duck out of the way only a few moments before – currently waiting at the other side of the boulder he was using for cover – probably searching for him – and, lastly, a fourth and a fifth creature trying to surround his brother.

Shit.

There was no way Dean would be able to stand his ground against them for long: between the fangs, the claws and the stingers on their tails, it was like fighting against four people at once. With a leap Sam tried to run in his aid, but his path was cut off when the same wyvern that had been causing him trouble decided to simply climb over the boulder and jump in front of him. He easily managed to dodge its following attempt at biting him by changing his stride into a roll, but he now found himself unable to progress further without dealing with the beast first.

This was no good. This wasn't good at all! He needed to get rid of it as soon as possible, before his brother became the latest lunch of its enraged nest-mates. Frustration and fear for Dean's wellbeing swirled in him and tried to get the better of his focus, but, as used as he was to the stress that came with a fight, he managed to pour both of them in a strike that sank his blade deeply into the creature's shoulder. With a loud scream of pain, the wyvern pulled back, its left wing limply trailing behind it now that its injury made it difficult for the beast to widen it.

He took advantage of that moment of hesitation to send an apprehensive look in his brother's direction: he had so far managed to avoid dealing with both his opponents at the same time by continuously changing his position and making sure to always keep one of them between himself and the other, but Sam knew that he couldn't keep it up for long without falling to exhaustion. Again he tried to run to his help, but his path was cut a second time by the wyvern he'd injured only a few moments before: apparently the creature was more stubborn than a frightened mule, and all the wariness that had come with its wound hadn't lasted long.

With a sound of frustration he jumped back, dodging its tail and the deadly stinger at its tip while he instinctively slashed out with his sword. He didn't manage to land another hit – the beast having understood that the blade in Sam's hand was to be avoided – and he cursed aloud when he was forced once again to duck behind the protection of his previous hiding spot.

A cold pit of worry was forming in his belly even as he kept his attention firmly focused on his opponent, and his attacks became more restless and daring with the urgency to make sure that his brother was safe. He was so concentrated on dealing with the creature in front of him as quickly as possible that, when he saw it suddenly stop his motions halfway through an attempt at biting him to stand tall on its hind legs and stare far off at its left, he couldn't help but pause in confusion.

His hesitation lasted only for an instant, his instincts almost immediately taking over and prompting him to attack the wyvern now that it was distracted, only for him to freeze again when a loud, inhuman screech of alarm coming from Dean's direction filled the air.

He barely had enough time to see the crouched – and mostly unscathed – figure of his brother, before an enormous scaled paw plunged through the air like a silver thunderbolt of heavenly rage and snatched one of Dean's opponents right off the ground, huge claws viciously sinking in the flesh of the smaller reptile and then throwing it against the side of the mountain with such strength that even the ground underneath Sam's feet trembled because of it.

It was the sharp sound of the creature's neck snapping that finally brought him back from his dumbstruck state to fully take in what was actually going on.

"Dragon!" he heard Jo shout in warning through the panic that was quickly beginning to creep on his thoughts.

He needed to get to Dean.

He needed to get to Dean and drag him to safety right the fuck _now_!

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the wyvern he'd been dealing with slowly back off, its attention completely focused on the new – and much more threatening – menace before them, so he tried to take advantage of its temporary distraction to spring in his brother's direction. Normally, with his long stride, he would have made it in a little more than a dozen wide steps, but this time he only managed to run a handful of feet before a huge silvery figure slithered in front of him with an amount of grace that no creature of that size should be able to show.

For a horrified instant Sam was certain that he was about to discover how a dragon was made on the inside, but the large beast only stared at him with its unearthly blue eyes, before deciding to completely ignore his presence in favor of crashing one of its paws on the other wyvern still standing in Dean's proximity. The smaller reptile gave a pitiful whine, madly scrambling to free itself, and its squirming movement only stopped when sharp claws sank into its neck: it gave a last, gurgling sound and then it was summarily tossed aside.

Seeing the dragon pause for now, as if it were deciding what to do next, Sam sent a quick glance in Jo and Victor's direction: one of the wyverns they'd been dealing with laid in a heap of limbs on the ground, blood pouring from a deep sword wound just above its collarbone, while the other one was nowhere to be seen and had probably taken advantage of the confusion to run away.

That only left the creature he'd injured himself, but it only took him a quick scrutiny of the area before he noticed it trying to climb up the side of the mountain. Its attempt at escape made sense considering that it was unable to fly, but it was also cut short when a silver tail whipped the air and crushed against its back, snapping its spine with a loud crack.

Sam took a deep breath while he watched the body slide down the rocky wall without making another sound. He was aware of his eyes beginning to burn for how long he'd been staring without blinking even once, but he couldn't bring himself to do even that: what if, in that split second that he took for him to close and reopen his lids, the dragon decided to attack one of them?

It was true that the huge reptile had so far seemed to ignore everyone lacking scales and wings, but that didn't mean anything, right?

What if it had only focused its attention on the wyverns first because he considered them the biggest threat between them?

What if it now decided to—

His head snapped back to attention when he saw the dragon move again and _shit, shit, shit, shit_ , it was going towards Dean!

The fear that had been seizing his body up to that moment was shoved aside by worry for the other's safety. He clenched his fingers around the grip of his sword to steady his mind, and then sent a glance in Jo and Victor's direction, catching their eyes and pointing at his brother with a nod of his head to silently convey that they should get him as far away as possible while he kept the dragon busy.

When they both signaled their understanding, he quickly made his way to walk around the dragon: the creature had long since stopped moving but he couldn't see exactly what it was doing now – the fact that his brother wasn't screaming in pain was a good sign – since the bulk of its body covered most of his visual. It was the deep rumble that filled the air soon afterwards, sounding far too much like a displeased growl, that made his hastened pace break into a spring.

"I thought I told you not to attack the wyverns on your own!" a voice like gravel loudly complained.

Was the dragon able to _speak_?!

"It would have been easier to avoid them if you actually told me _where_ their nest was!"

Wait...what?

"If I told you that, you would have gone hunting them on your own!"

"Well, it's a moot point _now_!"

Was Dean arguing with the dragon?!

When he finally reached around the winged reptile, he could only stop and stare at the sight before him: the two contenders were standing one in front of the other, eyes narrowed in twin glares, but they didn't seem about to fight. In fact – current discussion aside – they seemed entirely comfortable with one another. Dean's shoulders were relaxed even while he kept his hands on his hips in a silent challenge, and, although Sam wasn't much of an expert in dragon behavior, even he could tell that the huge creature had no threatening intentions towards his brother whatsoever: it's wings were folded against its side and its horned head was lowered to properly stare the older prince in the eyes, while its fangs were not being displayed in threat nor its claws were twitching with the need to strike.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jo and Victor finally reach him, the first with a puzzled look on her face at the scene they were witnessing and the other sporting a deep frown. When they glanced at him to silently ask his opinion he just shrugged, not sure himself what to do: it was clear that Dean was more than acquaintance with a creature they always thought to be nothing more than an oversized, deadly predator, and he'd to start wondering if this was the same dragon that kept kidnapping his brother because, wow...suddenly all the failed attempts at rescuing his brother from the creature's clutches made far more sense!

In hindsight it was kind of embarrassingly obvious why Dean had started to act so easygoingly about it after his third or fourth kidnapping – it was reasonable to think that he had become closer to the dragon by then, right? – or why the traps in which his Knights kept falling every time he sent them to search for his brother were steadily reminding him more and more of the pranks he and the older prince played on each other.

_It was Dean actively trying to keep the dragon safe from them!_

His brother was friend with a _dragon_!

He was brought back to attention from his silent bewilderment when his brother let out an undignified huff, turning just in time to see the winged reptile knock his brother on his ass with a gentle push of its muzzle and then promptly lay its head on the whole length of Dean's body to pin him down with its weight. If it weren't for the fact that every movement from the dragon screamed of careful gentleness – as if it were interacting with a glass figure – Sam would have started to worry.

No, that wasn't true, he was definitely starting to worry anyway, because those fangs were _huge_ and he had no doubt the creature they were attached to would be able to tear a bear apart without even a moment of hesitation.

"I don't like seeing you harmed, Dean..." the dragon commented, its voice becoming a deeper growl. Its eyes were narrowed in what looked like unhappiness and...ruefulness?

Sam was pretty sure it was ruefulness.

The whole situation was becoming more and more surreal with every passing second...

It didn't help that, at the creature's words, the expression on his brother's face changed from miffed to regretful, his mouth tensing into a straight line while his eyes darted away with guilt. It was so eerie to watch and so different from any kind of familiar behavior Sam was used to expect from his brother, that he had the clear impression he was missing something vital.

Even weirder, he also had the distinctive sensation that some kind of epiphany was prodding at the back of his mind in an attempt to catch his attention, but he couldn't quite put his fingers on it. It was extremely irritating and, the more he watched the interaction between the dragon and his brother, the more he felt frustrated by it.

"Hey," Dean quietly called, all his attention focused on his scaled friend while he poked the side of its head with a reinforced boot to regain all its focus, "I'm all right, you know?"

The two of them stared at each other for an uncomfortably long moment, so much so that Sam felt Jo moving at his side, pulling at his sleeve to make him look in her way. When he saw the silent question in her eyes, he shrugged helplessly, not entirely sure himself what was going on now.

"Now move that huge snout of yours so that I can introduce you properly!" Dean words drew what sounded like an amused chuckle out of the giant creature, but the dragon raised its head nonetheless to set him free once again. He quickly jumped back on his feet and Sam didn't miss how he seemed to automatically take a step between them as if he were afraid that they would suddenly decide to attack his reptilian friend.

Uh.

"So..." the older prince began, scratching the back of his neck with embarrassment while he finally took in the bewilderment of the other people present, "Guys, this is Cas... _Castiel_ ," he explained while gesturing at the beast stiffly sitting on its hind legs at his side, as if it had only now remembered that they weren't alone. The dragon was more than twenty feet tall, covered in silvery scales and with a pair blue eyes that seemed to stare through your body and right at your soul. There were two sets of three horns that went down the sides of its head, and a few flat protrusions raising from its shoulders and the outside of its forearms, that flattened back against its body as soon as Sam set his gaze on them.

"And these are my brother Sammy, Victor, and Jo," his brother concluded his introduction.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," the dragon stated, nodding its head and sounding...weirdly polite? Were all dragons like that? Granted, the younger prince had no previous experience with any of them and he only ever heard of the disasters they caused by indirect sources, but surely they should be more vicious? Or at least less willing to strike a conversation with random humans?

And why was Dean sneaking glances at him like he was bracing himself for some kind of apocalypse to fall on them?!

Certainly the older prince knew that he wouldn't start a fight with a _dragon_ with only two people at his back and with no provocation whatsoever, so what was wrong with him no—

"Castiel," he suddenly called the reptile's attention on himself while he sent a last suspicious glance in his brother's direction, "could you...flex your wings a bit?"

The creature looked vaguely perplexed at the sudden request but it didn't seem to mind complying with it; its wings spread, silvery skin catching the rays of the sun, and then suddenly everything was filled with a familiar blinding light that made every humans present groan in pain.

"You were courting _**THE DRAGON**_?!" when they managed to open their eyes again, Sam's shout rose to pierce even the burning pulse left behind by the effects of Castiel's reflective scales, and his gaze immediately focused on his brother like a hound with its prey.

The older prince was frozen in place, his eyes impossibly wide and his face drained of any color while Sam stared back at him with dumbfounded certainty: he knew what the other's squirming and uncomfortable glancing around meant – he'd seen that look on his brother enough times – and he had no doubt that he'd finally got the whole picture of Dean's recent strange behavior.

Oh, he had been so convinced he'd it all figured out!

How terribly wrong and yet painfully right he'd been!

Because, sure enough, Castiel sounded plenty male – or at least so he guessed, judging by the dragon's voice – but it wasn't a man at all!

He watched as his brother fumbled to find anything to say at his realization, but their mutual staring was interrupted when a silvery head filled the gap between them to set its gaze on the older prince.

"Dean," its voice was even when it spoke, betraying nothing of what were its thoughts on what had just transpired, but there also was some undercurrent of tension which Sam was not quite sure how to interpret underneath it all, "were you courting me?"

If his brother answered, the younger prince didn't manage to hear a word, only able to watch while Castiel tilted its head as if coming to a conclusion.

"We need to talk," it stated and, before Sam could protest what was happening, the dragon had already scooped Dean in its clawed paws, the protrusions on its shoulders and forearms spreading wide once again while it prepared itself for flight.

"I will make sure he comes home before nightfall," it added, voice shaking the air like a thunder, before it sprang upwards with a few potent pushes from its huge wings.

While Sam watched them fly away, he felt his body finally give up, his shoulders slumping as all his strengths was drained away by the bewildering events of that day.

He blinked, observing his brother and the object of his wooing become little dots in the horizon; he then proceeded to slowly sink his face in his hands and let out a loud groan.

"I've a dragon for a brother-in-law!"

**Author's Note:**

> THIS FANFICTION WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SHORTER!  
> Uhm, I mean...*cough cough* wow! I swear I meant for it to be 6k-word-long at most, and instead I at some point realizied that I'd hit the 8k words mark...and then the 10k words mark...and then the 15k words one...Sam, you really are long-winded, aren't you?
> 
> I also meant for this series to be short, but, as it turns out, it's probably going to contain at least 4 more one-shots.  
> Hopefully they won't end up growing a life on their own like this one did (ahahah, who am I kidding!).


End file.
